


(not-so) fated encounter

by Vullet



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, headcanons and shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 09:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15361014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vullet/pseuds/Vullet
Summary: (ripped from my tumblr)Krok doesn't expect his death to be delayed when a certain helicopter shows up.





	(not-so) fated encounter

**Author's Note:**

> the formatting on this was weird so i didn't edit it at all. go read my scorponok/flame fics if you want well written shit

“Hey.” **  
**

The Monoformer’s optics flittered open, first looking down at his legs. The lower halves had been ripped off, draining quickly of energon, as was his left arm. It was only when he felt a hand attempt to lift his head up that he did so. A rather large helicopter for what was seemingly a low ranking con met his gaze, tilting his head.  
“Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m not,” the darker colored responded, thinking about how he would have pushed this mech away from him if he had the strength.

“You’re hurt.”  
“…”  
“Oh. I’m Spinister.”  
“Krok.” Those words didn’t feel right on his mouth, but his squad was gone. Gatoraider was gone. The most respects he could pay to his fallen comrade was taking a name after them.  
“So, how’s it going? It doesn’t look good,” the helicopter - no,  _Spinister_  - asked.

“What the hell do you think?”  
“What I assumed. You’re hurt.”  
“I’ve got three severed limbs, you don’t need to make a statement like that.”

Picking up Krok’s dismembered arm, Spinister began to reattach it, slowly. “What are you even doi-”  
“Helping you. Duh.”  
“Just leave me to die,” Krok said.  
“I’d feel guilty if I didn’t help you. At least, that’s what I think I would feel. Feelings like to run away a lot.”  
Leaning back against the rock behind him, the Monoformer sighed, as he could only watch himself reluctantly be saved by the other Decepticon. It felt good to be whole again, but a sadness lingered in his spark. He didn’t deserve this. He should have offlined with his squad. And this Spinister person should be helping higher priority targets, considering how incredible of a surgeon he was. The sun began to set before words echoed through his audials again.  
“I’m tired,” Spinister said, laying down on the ground next to Krok. The latter could only wonder what kind of glitch you would need to have in your processor to recharge in a spot like this.   
“I’ll watch out for you. It’s the most I can do,” he said, despite knowing the other was dead asleep. He glanced up at the sky, and sighed. It seemed he could only keep losing everything, no matter how hard he tried.

* * *

Calculating that the other would be awake soon, Krok took off early, not wanting to talk it out with someone like Spinister. He had stumbled across a lucky find - a small ship, barely large enough to fit a trine of Seekers or so. Hoping it still functioned, he cracked open the entrance carefully, trying to not destroy his only way out of here.  
“What are you doing?”  
The mostly grey mech sighed, and turned around to face the larger pink one looking down.  
“Leaving.”  
“Without me?”  
“Yes.”  
“You’ll need me.”  
“Why?”  
“Because that corpse of that ‘bot over there is looking at us funny.”  
“What do you even mean by that? It’s dead, Spinister, it’s de-”  
“Actually, it’s not,” Spinister commented, as the obviously alive bot approached them.  
“But, they were offline just nanokilks ago!”  
“Yeah. Just like you’d think of anyone who’s dead. Cybertronians don’t leave easily,” the larger of the duo commented, shooting the Autobot’s head off with a lucky shot from a gun he had somehow acquired while chasing down what he viewed as his new friend. “You need someone like me. To help you see the big picture. Or just. The picture. You’re kind of weird, you know?”  
“I could say the same about you,” Krok would have been smiling if he had a mouth, looking up.  
“So?”  
“Fine. You can come with me, but no slowing me down. We part ways as soon as I find my squad again,” was the reply, as the mech responding hid a finger within a fist.  
“Cool.”


End file.
